Always You
by springburn
Summary: A Fic prompt. Malcolm and Sam return from their short break to find an intriguing message on the answer machine...


Malcolm and Sam return from their short break at the seaside to discover an intriguing message on the answer machine...

Another lovely prompt...petersgal said...  
"Julius has left a message on the answermachine for maclcolm to contact him when he gets back from his little break,he has a very interesting propostion...but will malcolm or sam be happy or even interested?again,up to you where you want to go with this..i seem to be malcolm mad right now,but i still love my dr :)good luck my friend.."

This story was a challenge for me. I wanted to write out of my comfort zone a little, because I think it's good to do that sometimes. I hope you'll think it works.

It has always seemed pretty certain to me, that Julius Nicholson is gay, and that, his affections tend towards Malcolm. Whether that is because they are complete polar opposites, from the point of view of background as well as personality, I'm not sure.

He strikes me as being a submissive, despite his superior manner, possibly ashamed of his feelings and rather lonely because of it. Anyway, here it is, see what you think...

ALWAYS YOU.

Front door slammed open, as they all piled in.  
Hot, sweaty and tired.  
The paraphernalia that accompanied three small children!  
Buggy, bags, buckets and spades, suitcases all dumped unceremoniously in the hall.  
Sam ushered her weary brood upstairs for a welcome bath and bed.

Copious amounts of sand had somehow managed to come home with them.  
"Stick the cases in the utility room, Malc, I'll deal with them tomorrow, there's nothing in them we need urgently. And put the kettle on!"

Malcolm stood at the kitchen counter sifting through a raft of mail. Her arms came around him from behind held him tight.  
Gone was the strained expression on his face, relaxed now, happy.  
It had taken a couple of days for him to return completely to normal, to smile again.  
For that 'little boy lost' look to fade.  
Sam had no real idea of what he'd been through. What she'd put him through. She was angry with herself.  
She'd been a fool. She knew how sensitive he was, how astute. That underneath that prickly exterior, he was vulnerable, insecure.

Of course he would sense something was different.  
How had she not realised he was suffering from more than just stress ?  
He'd been hurting, profoundly, scared and feeling alone, and it was her fault.  
Even after knowing the truth it required a great deal of reassurance, before he was completely and utterly convinced.  
Sure of himself again.

His hands closed over her own. He hummed with contentment. Leaning back against her.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. I'm good. Thank you Sam."

"For what? I'm the one that bought all this on. I feel as though I can never stop saying sorry."

"Forget it now. Over. Yeah? You love me?"

"You know I do. I always will."  
Then he noticed the light flashing in the answer machine.  
They hardly ever received voice messages. Their normal contacts had their mobile numbers.  
He reached across, pressed the button and they both listened...

 _Malcolm!_

 _Hello! It's Lord Nicholson here. Yes, I know you haven't heard from me for a long time._

 _I have a proposition to put to you and I wondered if you would be available to meet. Say Thursday, at my Richmond house. You know the address. Shall we say 2pm?"_

Sam and Malcolm exchanged a glance.

"What do you think that can be about?"

"Goodness knows. Are you going to go?"

"I guess so. I wonder what the bloody old sod wants from me?" Malcolm frowned.

"Malcolm, I don't think you should go. Ring him back and say that whatever it is, you're not interested."

Pulling his wife closer and kissing her hair, he laughed.

"But I'm intrigued...Julius Nicholson...after all this time. You have to admit, it's interesting!"

Sam pulled a face but declined to comment.

oOo

Lord Nicholson of Arnage sat directly across from Malcolm Tucker.

The contrast between the two men palpable.

The one, stiff, correct, upright and rather prim.

The other, relaxed, confident, laid back, self assured.

"So this is why you called me?" Tucker gestured expansively.

"Yes...are you interested?"

"What do you think?"

"I think it could work very nicely." Julius moistened his lips slightly, staring over the desk at his counterpart.

He watched as Malcolm's long shapely fingers curled around the handle of his coffee cup.

Fascinated.

"Good...when can you start?"

"No time like the present."

Leaving his chair Nicholson moved slowly round the room, tracing his hand over leather bound books on the shelf, shifting a photograph an inch to the left...carefully, deliberately, until he was standing directly behind Malcolm, looking down on the back of his head.

Gently, pointedly, he stroked a hand across the cheek and down the side of the neck.

Tucker stiffened slightly, then, reaching to place his cup and saucer down, he stood up, forcing back his chair, turned, and faced his old colleague.

"I don't think..."

Their faces were inches apart, eyes locked, steely blue against dark brown.

"Shhhh! Don't fight it Malcolm, you want this as much as I do."

He closed the distance between them, letting their lips touch, tentatively at first, and then more insistent.

Not rushed, not frenzied, but languid, hungry, salacious.

Malcolm let out a moan, pulling back.

"I'm a married man!"

"I won't tell, if you don't." Malcolm could feel his hot breath.

"Fuck you Nicholson!"

"Yes, please!" He replied, his hand grazed slowly down the crisp white shirt, undoing three of the buttons and sliding his hand inside, pushing him back against the desk, and letting his fingers linger over the hardened nipples.

In reply Malcolm gripped him hard, turning him so that their positions were reversed.

"Didn't think I'd let you be the Master did you Julius? You're not with your fucking prep school fags now you know."

Nicholson whimpered, as their mouths crashed together once more, tongues touching, more urgency now, fire building between them.

Malcolm was hard, rock hard, pressing himself into Nicholson's groin, almost painfully.

"Is this what you want? Is it? Say it you tosser...tell me."

"I want you Malcolm." His voice only just above a whisper, as he felt a deft hand unfastening his belt buckle, unzipping him, palming him through the fabric of his underwear.

"Yeah...You know it. Poor little Julius, always hard for me...such a slut."

The words made him shift slightly, raising his hips against the teasing hand.

"Can I touch you, Malcolm...let me please?"

"Yeah...you need to touch a real man, not these half backed limp dicks you surround yourself with."

As he spoke he pulled open the front of his own trousers...no boxers...Julius gasped at the sight of Malcolm's full erection straining upwards, engorged, throbbing.

Immediately he bent, almost in an act of worship, taking him into his mouth and sucking diligently.

"Yeah!...Fuck, that's good...fuck me...you're such a whore Julius." Malcolm swore above him, guiding his head down with a firm touch.

His tongue circled the tip almost lazily as Malcolm pulled himself away, eyes half closed, mouth open.

"That's enough! Get your kit off, you ponce, I'm going to screw you to this desk till you beg for more..."

Without hesitation, Julius eagerly removed his shoes, socks, trousers and boxers, leaning back over the desk, panting for breath. He took a tube of lube from the drawer beside him.

"I should have known you were a Boy Scout." Malcolm grinned, voice course, accent strong and velvet soft, "always prepared!"

Still almost fully clothed himself, Tucker hoisted the peer back onto the table, grabbing both his legs, pushing them open and up towards his chest, fully exposing him.

Lube on his fingers, lube on the Nicholson's willing arse, he teased him open.

The sounds that Julius was making and the rapt expression on his face, did most of the work for Malcolm...moaning, whimpering, begging...

"Please Malcolm, please, just fuck me...I want you, please."

"Yeah...say it, this is what you want, have always wanted?" He growled.

"Yes...God. Do it. Please."

He cried out, arching himself, as he took Malcolm's considerable length deep inside him.

Fast, hard.

His own cock, already aching, reared up in anticipation, as he felt that intensity, burning his prostate.

It was everything he'd thought it would be.

Wonderful. Fulfilling. Satisfying.

Malcolm's rhythm faltered, he was coming, hard.

Julius was coming too...pumping his own semen all over his stomach and chest, as Malcolm's pulsed inside him.

Grunting, sweaty and consumed with lust...

...Julius Nicholson awoke.

He was lying splayed on his bed. Nude. Alone.

The sheets were screwed in an unruly mess underneath him.

Duvet thrown back in a heap.

His hand around his own softening penis.

He was covered in his own ejaculate.

Wet with perspiration and semen.

Breathing heavily.

For a moment he wasn't sure where he was.

Then, as he came to wakefulness, he realised.

With a sigh he pulled himself up and headed for the bathroom.

oOo

The door was answered by a smartly suited man of about sixty, who ushered him into Lord Nicholson's study.

Trust Julius to have a manservant, Malcolm thought.

The room was rather like the interior of a gentleman's club.

Glass fronted bookcases, leather chairs. A large walnut desk. Green shaded arc lamp.

Paintings adorned the walls. Malcolm scanned them curiously.

He was sure one was a Munnings, and probably a small Spencer too...Christ!...impressive.

Only the best for Lord Nicholson of Arnage.

He turned as his old colleague entered, taller by a inch or so, he bent into a yielding, docile posture, hand extended, a somewhat uneasy smile on his face.

"Malcolm! So pleased you could make it. Do sit down."

He gestured to a chair, and took a seat himself.

Sitting forwards, arms on the desktop in front of him, hands linked together.

"I expect you're wondering why I asked you here."

"I confess I was. It's been a long time you old pisser. What do you want with me?"

"I've taken the liberty of ordering some tea...would you like some?"

"I'd prefer coffee. Come on, stop the fucking pleasantries...why am I here?"

"I have a proposal to put to you. I wondered if you'd be interested?"

"A proposal? I'm afraid I'm already spoken for!"

Julius laughed nervously.

"Lovely as that would undoubtedly be, let me put it another way, a proposition then, a business arrangement."

The door opened noiselessly and the Man entered bearing a tray of tea, coffee and biscuits.

He set it down on the table between them, bowed slightly and padded away.

"Shall I be mother?"

"If the cap fits..." Malcolm suppressed a smirk.

Nicholson stood and began to arrange the cups, handing Malcolm a plate.

"I see your taste in biscuits hasn't changed," he smiled, " no pissy biscuits here, only the best."

Julius risked a smile in return.

"I always liked the best Malcolm. Of everything." He replied.

As he handed over the cup and saucer, their fingers brushed for the merest of moments.

Nicholson blushed deeply.

Malcolm seemed unperturbed.

"So come on then, you fucking ponce, what is it that's so important, you felt the need to call me, drag me down to your posh Richmond seat and ply me with beverages and high class bikkies?"

Nicholson took a breath...

"I'd like you to pen my biography."

"You'd like me to w...?"

"Yes...hear me out..." He raised a hand as Malcolm began to protest, " I can think of no one better qualified. Your writing has been acclaimed, you know me, have an insight, I could even say we were friends."

Malcolm laughed heartily.

"You're out of your fucking mind, Julius! I can't write your bloody life story."

"Why not? I thought I would be cathartic for you. You might learn something. Get to know me a little better. I'm not all public school prig you know. I have hidden depths."

As he was speaking he rose, moved around the desk, laid his hand on Malcolm's shoulder, squeezing gently.

Malcolm shot up, spilling the coffee.

He turned to face the peer, eyes glowering, angry.

"For fucks sake Julius. What's your game? You're coming on to me here...right...making a pass...or am I misreading the signals?"

Nicholson stepped away slightly, his eyes lowered, not daring to hold Malcolm's fearsome glare.

"Would that be such a terrible thing? If I were...?"

"Yes, it fucking would you prick! Jesus...what are you thinking?"

"I apologise. I thought..."

"You thought what? That I'd welcome it, that I would come here, every day...write your sodding book, be your bitch?"

"No! God no! It wasn't like that. I've always held a candle for you Malcolm, I thought you knew. When we worked together, when you used to banter with me, I thought you..."

"Secretly fancied you?...for fucks sake! And you fancied me...?"

Malcolm was pacing now, incredulous.

"Always. Malcolm. It was always you. Always."

A sadness flickered across his face. He sat down heavily in his chair.

Calming now, his expression softening, Malcolm stood across from him, leaning his hands on the desk, knuckles white as he gripped the edge.

"Julius. I'm sorry...Really I am. Trust me, I had no idea...truly. It's all just banter with me, all that cock sucking stuff. It doesn't mean anything. I'm not attracted to men...I'm married, I'm straight. The only person I love is my wife."

"And you won't write for me?"

"I don't think that's a very good idea under the circumstances, do you?"

"No. I guess not. I apologise to you Malcolm, I honestly didn't get you here under false pretences. My motives were genuine. But seeing you again, after all this time, I... I just got...well, carried away."

"Listen, you stupid twat, it's okay. Yeah? Really. It's fine. But don't waste any more of your time mooning over me. Find yourself someone, someone who will love you back. I'm just afraid that someone isn't going to be me."

oOo

Sam peeped her head around her husband's study door.

Malcolm was sitting at his own desk, feet up on the top. Hands pressed into a prayer formation, fingers to his lips.

He swung backwards and forwards in the chair, thoughtfully.

"Hey! You're back!"

Wordlessly he opened his arms to her, she came and sat across his lap, legs dangling over the arm of the seat.

"What did Julius want?"

"Humph!"

Sam leaned away, gripping his jaw with her hand, raising his face to look at hers.

"Malc?"

"He wanted me to write his biography."

"Good Lord! Really?"

"Yeah. Sam...can I ask you something?"

"Sure, ask away."

"When you were my PA, did you ever think Nicholson had a thing for me?"

Sam laughed.

"Malcolm...everyone knew! And I could give you a list of men who would give their eye teeth to bend you over their desks! Julius was just one of them!"

His eyebrows shot up.

"Really? You're fucking kidding me?"

"Of course not! Why would I? Julius had it bad, did you never notice? Why are you asking anyway... Oh, Lord...he made a pass at you didn't he? You didn't thump him did you?"

"Yes! And no. I didn't thump him. Christ, I must be fucking blind. I never knew, never dreamt. I mean, I know all that public school fag shit and rumours of fumbles behind the bike sheds, but he never directly said anything to me. Poor bastard. All this fucking time. What a waste. He could have been with someone else, been happy..."

" I'll admit, I always thought you were a bit rough on him, but I thought that was because you were trying to give him the brush off, in as lighthearted a way as possible, and I wasn't really in a position to voice it at the time...you're okay aren't you? This hasn't freaked you out?"

"No. I was just a bit shocked that's all. Came as a bolt from the blue."

"You're not going to take him up on his proposal, I take it?"

"No. I've got my own writing. But more than that, I've got you. You're the only lover I need.

Speaking of which...we've got forty-five minutes before the kids come home..."

He raised his eyes to the stairs.

Sam giggled.

"Malcolm Tucker! How can a girl say no to that?"

"There is no way...apparently there are no limits to my appeal!"

With that he hitched her into his arms and made for the bedroom.


End file.
